


Undomesticated Equines

by pipisafoat



Category: In Plain Sight
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-31
Updated: 2011-10-31
Packaged: 2017-10-25 14:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipisafoat/pseuds/pipisafoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stan wasn't the only one.</p><p>At first, they thought he'd been kidnapped. Murdered, even. All their worst case scenarios and bad-food-induced nightmares had been no preparation for the truth. There was no preparation for the truth. All the science fiction Marshall had devoured, the constant imagining of worst-case scenarios Mary had engaged in, Allison's penchant for slasher films - none of it came anywhere near getting them ready for reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [strwbrygrl77](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=strwbrygrl77).



> Written for the 2010 Secret Snowflake Gift Exchange on mary_marshall (lj) for strwbrygrl77, whose prompt was "When Stan goes missing, Allison asks Marshall to temporarily take over the office. How does that affect Mary/Marshall's partnership?"  
> I sort of bastardized the prompt. Hello, scifi!

Marshall's phone rang in the middle of Galaxy Quest, and he handed the popcorn bowl to his partner and headed to the kitchen before answering. "Marshall here."

"Inspector Mann, Allison Pearson. We have a bit of a situation. Bring your partner and meet me at your office." She hung up before he could get any details, and he shrugged before trotting back into the living room.

"Duty calls," he told Mary with a poke to her shoulder. "We've got to go in. Finish the movie tomorrow?"

She grumbled under her breath and disappeared into her bedroom, coming back out with shoes and a jacket. "Stan say what was up?"

"Not Stan. Allison Pearson. And no, she didn't."

Mary spent half the ride over promising extreme pain to both Allison and Stan if the problem wasn't a really, really good one; the other half was spent reviewing active witnesses and trying to think of potential leaks. They figure either Molly Johnson had been kicked out of her father's house - again - or they were right about the Hernandez family not being located far enough away from their mafia's home base.

The latter theory stuck in their minds as Allison ushered them in to a suspiciously Stan-less office. "He's missing," she said bluntly. "Inspector Mann, I need you to fill his shoes temporarily."

Marshall cocked his head to one side and blinked slowly. "Who's missing, Stan?"

Allison nodded silently and pointed them towards the conference room. When they'd all sat down without another word said, Mary finally broke.

"You'll have to tell us sooner or later how you know this," she snapped.

"I'm not really sure what I know," Allison replied, slouching uncharacteristically in her chair. "He called me. Not that long ago." She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and tossed it to Marshall, who automatically checked the call history.

"9:32 pm," he read out loud, catching Mary's eye. "Call lasted for less than two minutes."

She shrugged. He snapped the phone shut and slid it back towards their boss.

"He told me he didn't have much time, that he was fighting it but was about to disappear. He said..." Allison laughed, the sound already almost hysterical. "He said it was the beginning of the end."

* * *

  
Mary left her partner - temporary boss - with Allison, hoping he could get a coherent story out of her without slapping her across the face. She sat at her desk, checked for email and voicemail and sticky notes and coded messages, anything Stan might have left for her to figure out what the 'beginning of the end' was supposed to mean. When nothing came up, she assumed that part of the story was just crazy talk and went about investigating through the usual channels. Nothing official caught her eye, and she sighed, dropping her head to her desk.

"Call the Hernandez family yet?" Marshall asked, and she straightened in her chair.

"No answer earlier, but you know them."

"Keep trying," he said, perching on the edge of her desk. "Anything else turn up?"

"Pretty sure I would have told you if it had," she snapped.

Marshall held both hands up immediately. "Whoa. Kind of need my head attached, here." He waited for her to respond, but she only slouched and crossed her arms. "Finally got the whole story out of Allison. She's a bit of a wreck." He fiddled with a loose paperclip for a moment before continuing. "I mean, I'm not saying I completely believe anything she says, but ... Maybe it was some kind of code?"

"Spit it out already," she said tiredly.

"Stan apparently told her that ... hewaalen."

She raised one eyebrow, and he sighed.

"He said he was an alien. And, you know, end of the world, evil alien invasion his people have been trying for years to thwart, that sort of thing."

Mary didn't even try to stifle her laugh. After an hour of getting absolutely nowhere, this felt like taking a step even further backwards, and there was nothing but to laugh. "So what I can't figure out," she forced out between breaths, "is which one of them is crazy. Or maybe it's both! You can't seriously--"

"I don't." Marshall sighed again. "Time is critical, but we both need sleep. The best thing we can do right now is tell the police, even if all they do is complain that it hasn't been enough time for him to be missing. I'll call the Phoenix office in the morning and get them to send some extra people over to cover the routine stuff and start transfers of all our active witnesses who could even remotely be connected to this."

She nodded. "Don't even tell anyone else the whole alien story."

He grined suddenly. "No? Temporary Chief shouldn't establish insanity before trying to rescue alien-or-crazy real-Chief?"

"Let's just hope it is a code for something."

"And try to figure it out before it's too late." Marshall's grin was gone as quickly as it arrived. "Evil alien invasion ... I'm thinking Mexican cartel?"

"Burrito warriors." Mary yawned. "Should we bring in Bobby D on this? See if Eleanor's heard from him? Don't they keep in touch?"

"Let them sleep. No, Bobby'll still be up. Let's go home. You think you can stay up long enough to call him? I'll get up early and get back on this, but I'm done for the night."

* * *

  
"The station got a lot of these sorts of calls last night," Bobby said, handing Mary the box of donuts and following her into the house. "Lots of people who up and walked out of the house, telling their friends or families that they just had to leave, very sorry, but the end of the world is coming."

Marshall looked up from the blender. "They all said the end of the world is coming?"

"Variations on that theme. And no kids missing, either, so nothing we can do but tell them call back when their friends have been gone long enough to call it missing persons."

"Nothing to suggest kidnapping?"

"Not a thing."

Mary sighed. "I need a smoothie before we have to think about this."

"As my lady commands." Marshall slid a glass towards her, filled one for himself, and offered a third to Bobby. "Berries and banana."

"Just a taste." A moment later, he held his glass out for more. "Mary said you were going to call Eleanor this morning?"

"No answer. I'll try her again later."

"And what happens when she's gone, too?"

Marshall groaned and joined his partner at the table. "God, I hope not."

Bobby pulled out his phone and wandered out of the kitchen to make a call. "I'll see what I can find out," he called over his shoulder.

"You okay?" Marshall asked Mary quietly. She shrugged. "I know it's morning, but you're still pretty quiet."

"I just keep thinking," she said.

In the silence that followed, they both drained the last of their smoothies, and Marshall tucked the toes of one foot onto Mary's chair, under her thigh. "Yeah?"

"When it was just Stan, I could make sense of it. Taken by someone, probably related to the job, his end-of-the-world spiel some sort of code to help us find him. I guess he would have found time to call; maybe they were chasing him and he knew he couldn't get away, just buy enough time to let us know what was going on. And he called Allison because she has more pull than either of us where it matters to get the big guns looking for him." She sighed and wrapped her hand around his ankle. "I don't know what to do with all these other people saying the same thing. It's too unlikely for them all to be in the same situation. I'd say it was a giant practical joke, but that's some planning. And there's no way Stan would do that to us. He knows exactly how many people we have to move, how much manpower it's going to take to deal with him missing, not even counting looking for him." She glanced at Marshall and grinned. "And it would have to be something serious for him to let either one of us be in charge of the office."

Bobby laughed from the doorway. "You have a point there," he said, then raised a hand defensively as Mary glared at him. "I wasn't eavesdropping! That's the only thing I heard." He pointed his cell phone at her. "Bad news, though. If your Eleanor's last name is the Prince I seem to remember it being, her neighbor called her in as missing."

"Goddammit."

Marshall kicked her gently.

"Extenuating circumstances!" she argued.

He shrugged, obviously unconvinced. "It is bad news. I guess."

"You guess? She could have helped us!"

"How, exactly? Do you think she has favors to call in on invading alien governments?" Marshall raised an eyebrow, and Bobby choked on a laugh.

"Jesus, Marshall!" Mary shoved his foot off her chair. "Can't you be serious for one minute? Eleanor is missing. Stan is missing. And you're supposed to be the big boss, but you can't stop cracking jokes. I know you've been in WitSec longer than me, but I'm starting to think Allison made a mistake promoting you, however temporary."

"What the fuck?" Marshall asked, his voice somehow reassuring and accusing at the same time. "This is how we always get things done. Keep it from getting too stressful so it's easier to actually think. What's going on in your head? Why is it suddenly so terrible-"

"Because you're in charge now." Mary stood up abruptly, crossed the room, set her glass down in the sink with a clatter. "You can't just ... You're in charge, you know? You can't just go around acting like a total dumbass."

Marshall spared a brief apologetic glance at Bobby before replying. "It's not like I'm playing the fool in front of big brass or anything. It's just you. And this is pretty stressful, being put in charge like this, so pardon me for trying to let things be normal when it's just us. It's sort of the only way I can deal right now, so you're really just going to have to deal with it."

She spun back towards them, eyes wide, and took a deep breath to respond, but Marshall's phone rang and he held a finger up as he answered.

"Marshall." He nodded as the person on the other end spoke, then said, "Sounds good, Charlie. Yeah." He waited again, eyes still on Mary. "No, we'll head over now. Make her some tea or something. Get the biscotti out of my desk, she likes that. And, uh, don't dismiss anything she might say, but don't freak out, either. We'll fill you in when we get there." He snapped the phone shut but didn't lower his silencing finger. "Allison's at the office, apparently a little wiggy, according to Charlie. We're going in. Is this," he gestured between them, "going to be a problem for you?"

"Jesus, Marshall," Mary repeated, a little resigned this time. "We're partners, right? Let's go." She paused at the door to look at Bobby. "Coming?"

"End of the world? Wouldn't miss it."


	2. Chapter 2

"And people everywhere are at a bit of a loss to explain all of these sudden disappearances." The junior reporter glanced around nervously before adding, "And, um, yes, several of our employees are among the missing. Our sincere apologies for the slightly slipshod appearance of today's news."

Charlie muted the television as the news show went to commercial. "So Stan's one of the missing people."

Marshall nodded.

"He's also a benevolent alien," Allison put in.

"Or insane," Mary argued.

"I'm more worried about what comes next, if what all these people - aliens - people - whatever. If what all they've been saying is true, and it's the end of the world? I'm really not okay with that." Bobby shrugged as they all looked at him. "A few disappearances isn't exactly the apocalypse. Are we talking fiery death of the planet? Some sort of virus that wipes out the human race? Nuclear war? From space?"

There was silence for a moment, then Charlie spoke up. "Um ... what?"

"Stan called Allison, told her he was an alien, his people have been trying to stop an invasion from a different set of aliens for a while, it isn't working, end of the world." Marshall waved a hand vaguely.

"And we're sure this isn't a code for something?"

Mary shot a withering glance at Charlie. "No, wow, with all our experience and expertise, we never thought that it might be a code!"

"Other people have been saying the exact same thing," Marshall said, glaring at Mary. "Too many to be a practical joke, too, before you suggest that. I think we might have to face the idea that this is for real."

"And how do we do that, _boss_?"

He ignored his partner's tone. "First things first. Charlie, I need you to get the Phoenix office on the phone for me. Allison, talk your way up the food chain. Find out how far these disappearances go. Nationwide, worldwide? Bobby, you probably need to check in with your job. I'm surprised they haven't called you - how many of them are missing? And Mary ... start calling all our witnesses. See how many we have left."

* * *

  
Reports came in slowly that day. The Phoenix office had lost their newest active witness to the strange disappearances - they hoped - as well as several of their Inspectors, so it took them several hours to get someone to the phone who could actually talk to Marshall. They regretted to tell him, but they wouldn't be able to spare any personnel. The Albuquerque office was on their own.

Allison couldn't get anywhere calling her higher-ups, so Charlie had taken her into the conference room with him. The two of them had checked all the major news sites for any clues to what was going on, but nobody else had any more ideas than they did. Allison moved on to watching YouTube videos of small animals.

"I don't think she's exactly okay," Charlie whispered to Marshall, clearly worried.

He sighed. "I know she isn't. What I don't know is why, or how to help her. If inane videos are helping, I don't want to take that away from her."

Charlie nodded. "I can keep an eye on her if you like?"

"Take my laptop and see if you can find anything else online, off the beaten path." He handed the computer in its case to the younger man. "Just use the guest account. And I'm talking about conspiracy theorists, nutjobs, anything you think might be helpful. Probably best if you don't tell her what you're up to. Mary either."

As Charlie went back into the conference room, Marshall turned his attention back to Stan's desk. He'd gotten into all of the drawers and found nothing more suspicious than a bottle of something that definitely wasn't water, but the combination lock box under the drawers was proving difficult to crack. He could pick a doorknob in six and a half seconds, but combinations had never been his strong point. Mary didn't have the patience for it, Charlie had given the box one look and shrugged, and he was sure Allison wouldn't be able to even if he thought she could handle the suggestion of it. Time to bring in the experts.

A knock on the door interrupted him as he reached for the phone, and he glanced up. "Alright, let's hear it."

Mary came in and shut the door behind her. "It's not good." She perched on the corner of the desk and tilted her head toward the lock box. "Any luck?"

"None."

She nodded. "Junk?"

"Haven't called him yet. God, I hope he's still around." Marshall rubbed a hand across his forehead and sighed. "This would be a whole lot easier if it was just Stan. Not that I want him taken by the mafia or anything, but having half our regular helpers missing and having to figure out the disappearance of probably millions of people."

She reached for his hand, and he rolled his chair over in front of her, rested his forehead on her leg, pulled her hand to the back of his neck. "It just sucks, right?"

He laughed. "Your powers of summation impress."

Her fingers began to knead his neck. "Stop taking it so personally."

"I'm not cut out for this kind of leadership," he replied, muffling his voice into her thigh.

"You're way too tense so soon in the game." They sat in silence for a few moments as she rubbed some of the tension away. "Hate to break it to you, but I've only got more bad news. I can't be sure how many of them are just regular not answering their phones, but we've only got 4 out of 5 families who are definitely here."

"Lovely." He didn't move for a long minute. "I have no idea where to go from here."

Mary let him lift his head from her leg but then pulled him close and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead. "You'll figure it out. What are our options?"

"Call Junk and get him into the box." Marshall left a hand on Mary's knee as he leaned back in his chair, smiling when she put her own on top of his. "As for the witnesses, we don't have the manpower to search for that many on a good day. Best we can do is split up - and send Charlie out, too, maybe with Allison riding shotgun? - and check in on as many homes, workplaces, and boyfriends as we can. Get a better idea of how many are really gone. The problem is, we won't know how many will be the supposed-alien disappearances and how many we'll need to look for."

"Charlie can handle riding alone. We need all the cars out we can get."

Marshall sighed. "I'm sure he can. I just don't think Allison should be left alone. She's ... not dealing with this very well." His phone rang, and he handed it Mary after glancing at the caller ID. "You want to take this one for me?"

She flipped the phone open. "Are you the only cop in Albuquerque or what?"

After a moment, she put the phone on speaker. "Say again."

"We've confirmed 40,000 people missing in conjunction with the whole alien bit in Albuquerque. It's clearly at least a national phenomenon. We don't have nearly as big a problem with crime and rioting as places like DC, but it's still an issue." Dershowitz laughed humorlessly. "Looks like my vacation won't be approved after all."

Marshall sighed again. "That's nearly ten percent of the city who apparently weren't human, accounting for unconfirmed. This day just gets better and better."


	3. Chapter 3

Crime increased that afternoon. Stores left open with nobody working, banks unguarded, cars left unlocked with keys in the ignition - the remaining population was nothing if not opportunistic. It didn't get violent though, at least not more than normal.

They filed a formal request with the police department for uniformed assistance in their search for "persons unidentified"; they received as an answer a formal request for their assistance in minimizing the sudden surge of theft. The message was clear enough to everyone: we've all got our own shit to deal with. Marshall sent Mary out to check on all the families in the western side of the city and Charlie, Allison in tow, to the eastern side. He stayed in the office, looking through Stan's personal files yet again for any clues, any ideas, any anything. He wasn't surprised when Junk didn't answer his call. It just figured that the one person who might be able to help them wasn't there, either.

He was a little surprised when his cell rang at the same moment as Stan's desk phone. He glanced at the caller ID, flipped it open, and said, "Hang on a sec," as he reached for the desk phone. "Marshall."

Mary and Junk both talked at once despite his request. "Fucking jackass aliens--"

"not been abducted yet--"

"but see if they ever thank me--"

"thanks for the assumption--"

"gonna shoot the next person who--"

"tell me what exactly you need--"

"Marshall, are you even listening?" they both asked at once, and he let out a loud breath, relaxing back into the desk chair.

"I'm here, but shut up for a minute. I have Mary and Junk both, and you know I can't understand a single thing when you both talk."

He could practically hear the grin as they said at the same time "Ladies first" and "Wimpy nerds first."

"Ladies first it is. Mary?"

"I'm glaring at you right now." She cleared her throat and shuffled the phone around. "Um, the gist is that the Robinsons threw canned fruit at me when I knocked on their door, Barry Reynolds tried to steal my car _again_ , and I've got nothing on anyone else. Nobody is in any apparent danger, and to be honest I've got no idea what we'd do if they were."

"Me neither." He sighed. "Junk? I'm glad you're not an alien. Talk to me."

"Yes, well, you too. Just a simple combination box, you said? I told you years ago that one day you'd regret--"

"I regret. Will you just open it for us?"

Junk coughed, the sound more an excuse than a necessity. "Right, yes, of course. Bring it by. I'm not leaving my battle station, as you should be well aware."

"Mary, meet me at his house?"

"I'll bring my tinfoil hat," she answered before hanging up. Marshall chuckled.

"I swear to god, if she just made some lame foil hat joke...."

"Don't worry; she did. See you in ten."

* * *

  
Junk met them at the door, snatched the box from Marshall's hands, gave it a cursory glance, and shoved it back into his hands. "Easy. Get inside." He shut the door behind them and quickly locked all four deadbolts. "Downstairs." He adjusted his headset and pushed through them to lead the way into his basement office.

The overhead light was off, as usual, but for the first time Marshall could remember, every single one of the computers was running, some seeming to be operating on their own. Junk caught the raised eyebrow and waved a hand vaguely.

"They're self-searching. Headset alerts for anything particularly interesting." He paused in front of them, tapped a couple keys, and continued to his chair. "They're not the best, of course; I only took twenty minutes to write the search programs. But they're better than nothing. Faster than doing it all manually. This one--" He pointed to the oldest computer, all the way on the end of the bench, that he'd stopped at. "I don't know exactly what happened, but it keeps alerting me to sales on alien keychains. I know that's not what I put in. Unless it's running the old search...." He shrugged. "Box or news first?"

"News," Mary said as Marshall pushed the lockbox into Junk's hands. They all grinned.

"Multitasking it is." He closed his eyes and twirled the locks for a moment, running his other hand over different parts of the box. "There we are. So the problem is that nobody is exactly sure what's going on. All kinds of theories running around. I'm sure you've been keeping an eye on that?"

Marshall nodded. "In between doing my job and my boss's job, yeah. I was hoping you had something a little more useful than that."

Junk smirked. "Don't I always? So some of them you can immediately rule out as being utterly ridiculous - that only some of the missing people are aliens and the rest are just the best and brightest of humans, off for some intergalactic research project or even a breeding program. That's clearly a lie, seeing as how I'm still here."

Marshall shot a quelling glance towards Mary, and she snapped her mouth shut, deflating.

"Others contradict themselves in the same sentence. Which doesn't mean they aren't at least partly right. It's just, I mean, which part? So we don't consider those, either." He moved on to the second of four digits in the combination. "I've got Sally patched into satellites." He nodded toward the largest screen in the room, mounted on the wall above the other computers.

"Huh. I always thought that was just hooked up to a DVD player," Mary commented.

"Well, she was." Junk frowned at the screen. "Desperate times call for desperate people to do something desperate. Anyway, I was trying to just observe, but there are some first-class morons running the satellites." He looked defensively at Marshall. "I only hijacked a few!"

Marshall shrugged. "I'm more interested in what you found out from them today."

"Oh, good. It's just that you usually get pretty upset when I do illegal things or potentially start international incidents." Junk grinned brightly and moved to the next number in the combination. "Of all the theories out there, there are only a few that make any sense with what's going on in space around us. I don't know exactly what it is yet, but there's something big headed our way. Something little caused energy spikes all over the world and then flew away - I'm figuring that was all our alien friends getting the hell out of Dodge. The big one has a completely different energy signature, so I'm saying whoever left is not who's coming." He started working on the last number. "Anyway, it'll be here in about nineteen hours. I'm hoping to know more before then, but it's not like knowledge is particularly power in this situation. We just might be fucked."

"That's what I like to hear," Mary muttered, and Junk leered at her.

"Oh - there it is." He popped the box open and handed it back to Marshall. "Please tell me you read Martian."


	4. Chapter 4

"Charlie looks like you kicked his favorite hobo puppy."

Marshall looked up from the papers in his hands and glared at Mary. "It's not my fault he thinks I'm sort of superman. This is a language literally not from this world. I can hardly be expected to be able to read it."

She grinned. "Well, when you put it that way!" He kicked her under the table, but the grin only grew. "Come on, just think about it a different way. Maybe you can't read it, but Stan wouldn't have left it for us if it wouldn't have helped."

"Maybe he just didn't have time to come back and get it."

Mary frowned. "Sure. Let's think about this the depressing way."

He sighed. "I'd love to think that there's some sort of clue in here that's going to let us swoop in and save the planet, but it's not like he left us a dictionary."

"Oh, good plan. Charlie!" she called through the open conference room door. "Find us an alien dictionary!"

The man in question poked his head in the room. "Sorry, must have misheard, you want what exactly?"

Marshall rolled his eyes. "Our brilliant friend seems to think that Stan would have left us a dictionary to go with these papers. She's hoping you can find it. I'm hoping you can knock some sense into her head - I hear you have a decent left hook."

Charlie looked deep in thought for a minute. "Stan told you that? Dude. I fought an alien."

"More of training than actual fighting, and it's probably not all that uncommon to say anymore, kid."

Marshall kicked at Mary again. "Can we stick to helpful observations?"

"Why, yes, how silly of me, I totally forgot that this pen Stan loaned me last week is actually a Martian translation device!" She stood up suddenly. "I'm going to go find us some sort of dinner. At least that has a chance of being useful."

The two men watched as she stormed out of the office, snapping her fingers to get Allison to follow her into the elevator. They resolutely did not laugh when she stormed right back in to get her wallet, when the elevator had already left her before she got back to it, or when the door to the stairs tried to shut on her arm.

"So."

Marshall nodded. "Yep."

"It would be pretty convenient if her pen was a translation device."

Marshall nodded again. "Yep."

Charlie pulled a chair out with his foot and dropped into it, elbows on the table. "I take it you haven't made any progress."

"I'm going cross-eyed looking at what feels like random scribbles on a page." He pushed the contents of the box towards the younger man. "You fancy playing the linguist?"

"Not really." He stared vacantly at the top page anyway. "Actually, hang on, I know some of this."

Marshall's mouth dropped open. "You what?"

"Yeah. Look at this." He traced a symbol that looked like a tent. "Kylie."

"That's Stan's phone code for danger." They both leaned forward, suddenly intent on the page. "There it is again. And that looks similar to it, but not quite the same...."

Charlie pointed to another one. "Chak. A person?" He squeezed his eyes shut in concentration. "Someone who doesn't belong. Shouldn't be there. Stands out. Something like that."

"Jesus, you can read this."

"I don't know why I didn't see it sooner. I don't know all of this, but maybe we can get a general picture. He never taught you any of it?"

Marshall shook his head. "I recognized Kylie as his phone code. I always figured it was his niece's name or something, a word he could work in easy enough if he had to. Maybe there's more words I'll know when I hear them. What else do you have?"

"Tic tac toe." Charlie pulled a pen out of his pocket and flipped the paper, making a frustrated noise when there was more writing on that side of it. He fished in his other pockets and pulled out an old receipt. "He didn't use Xs and Os. This symbol was always for Stan." He drew a small square with a T on top, and Marshall nodded.

"I've seen that. And here it is, and here ... You think that's his people?"

Charlie added a spiral with a curl on its tail. "If so, this one will be us, the Earthers. Unless it's the other aliens."

"It has to be us; I've seen that before." Marshall took the pen from Charlie and drew a similar spiral with a cross through the tail. "That's the others."

"Which explains why it's next to danger in these papers so often."

They both sat back. "Excellent. We have established that...." Marshall scanned the papers again, pointing when he came across the symbols they'd identified. "That there are other aliens who are dangerous and don't belong on Earth."

"His people don't belong here, either." Charlie poked a finger towards the bottom of the paper. "But that's all the words I can remember."

"Maybe we'll get more after we eat. Maybe Allison or Mary will know something. I don't think either of them has looked particularly closely at this. I don't know, maybe there's someone we haven't thought of who might know more of the words."

"I hope so. This really doesn't tell us anything we haven't learned already."

* * *

  
"Giant shit?"

Marshall laughed shortly. "Hello, Mary. Please, come on in. It's only the men's room, after all."

She let the door close behind her and leaned against it. "Better not be a giant shit, what with you standing at the sink and all."

"Charlie knew some of the symbols."

"Excellent!" She pushed off the door, rubbing her hands together eagerly. "So--"

"Not enough." He sighed and met her eyes in the mirror. "I want you to look at it again. Really look at it. Charlie knew some from playing tic-tac-toe with Stan. Maybe you've seen something before. Maybe Allison has. Maybe Bobby. When we've all gone over it, I'll send what we have to Junk, see if he can spare a computer to run a translation program on it."

"And you think that's going to work?"

"I think it's all I can think of right now." Marshall ran a hand roughly over his face. "Is there anything we can do about our actual jobs anymore?"

"God, I hope that's a rhetorical question."


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm going out." Charlie stood up abruptly, knocking his chair over backwards. "This is fucking ridiculous, okay? We've been working on this for five hours and haven't gotten anywhere. Nobody knows anything, and we just don't want to admit it." He turned on Mary. "Not even you!"

She held her hands up defensively. "I can admit it. You want me to admit it? Fine. We're not getting anywhere. We don't know very much."

"But we know more than most people." Marshall's words were soft and directed at the pages in front of him.

"Fat fucking lot of good that's doing us, okay? Meanwhile, the world's going to shit out there. It's nearly midnight, and the world has gone to shit." He stepped haphazardly over his chair and crossed to the window, leaning his forehead against the glass. "We're not superheroes, we're glorified cops, and I don't see why we're hiding up here instead of getting out there and doing our jobs."

"Charlie." Allison held a hand out to him. "You want to go out there?"

He sighed, the condensation fogging up the glass in front of him. "I want to do something useful," he answered after a moment.

"Then let's go. You and me. Let's go out there and see if we can help." She stood up, grabbed his arm, and tugged him gently towards the door. "Yeah?"

"It's not safe," Marshall warned almost absently, still staring at the papers on the table.

"I'm not paid to be safe." Charlie kicked at the window suddenly. "Fine. Let's go." He whirled and stalked out the door.

Allison looked at the two still sitting. "Call if you get something."

Mary sighed tiredly. "Be safe."

* * *

  
"You okay?"

Charlie grunted and honked the horn at the man standing in the road, jerking the car around him when he didn't move. "They shouldn't just not do anything," he answered finally.

"They're trying to figure out what's going on."

"And then do what?"

Allison shrugged. "And then stop it. Fix it. Get things back the way they should be."

"You really think they can do that? You really think we're any help to them, even if they can?"

She laughed shortly. "The way I hear it, you're the one who came up with everything we know so far."

"Jesus, I'm not a fucking linguist!" He smacked the wheel. "I just play games with my boss when it's slow. Hangman won't save the world."

"You never know what'll save the world," she returned. "Where are we going?"

Charlie tossed a cell phone into her lap. "Detective Dershowitz has been texting Mary all day, asking for help. He's at the Love's on 6th now."

"Break-in?"

"Among other things."

Allison pulled a gun out of the glove box. "And we're just going to barge in without telling him we're coming."

"Trust me, he'll be glad to see us." Charlie slammed on the brakes when he saw the big rig on its side across the road. "Not far; you up for a little walk?" He was out the door before she could answer.

"Sure, nothing like walking in the dark into an unknown but probably dangerous situation," she said to herself, slamming her door and jogging down the street after him.

"Shh!" He pulled her into a dark alcove as they approached the store. Through the windows, they could see Bobby D, facing off with an armed robber, both of them yelling over each other. "I'm going in."

"Charlie!" She grabbed at his sleeve, but he jerked away from her and kicked the door open.

"Ha--"

A gunshot rang out before he could say so much as one word. Another followed almost immediately, and Allison heard two bodies fall. She sent a quick prayer to a God she barely believed in anymore and eased her head cautiously around the door frame.

"What the hell are you doing here," Bobby was saying, kneeling over Charlie.

"Helping," Charlie managed. Allison dropped her gun with a clatter and slid to the floor in the doorway, hand over her mouth.

"Shit." Bobby looked up at her. "You hurt?"

She shook her head, staring at the blood spreading below the junior Marshal.

"Pearson. What are you doing here?"

Allison jerked her gaze up to meet Bobby's, only to find that he'd left Charlie and was right in front of her, wiping blood from his hands onto his already-soiled pants.

"What are you doing here?" he repeated, more gently.

"Charlie," she said, then squeezed her eyes shut. "He wanted to help. I couldn't let him come out here alone."

"No shit." She jumped as Bobby's hand landed on her shoulder. "Hey, easy, it's okay, it's just me. Where's Marshall?"

"They're at the office," she whispered. "Charlie...."

"Shh. I'll take care of it. Come on, let me take you back."

* * *

  
"Oh, this is what being safe looks like now?" Mary complained, taking in the blood on Bobby's clothes and Allison's shellshocked expression. "Where'd you leave the kid?"

Bobby shook his head at her and steered Allison into a chair. "You two had better have a damn good reason to be holed up here."

"Marshall's in there." Mary jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the conference room. "You look like hell."

"Yeah, well, that's because I've been out there, trying to keep hell from taking over our fair city." He grabbed her hand and practically dragged her into the room behind him, kicking the door shut. "Your boss just watched Charlie die."

Marshall sighed, still not looking up from the papers.

"What's all this?" Bobby sounded curious and angry at the same time, and Mary jerked her hand from his grip.

"Martian," she answered irritably, shoving a random page in his direction.

He glanced at the paper. "Not Martian."

"No shit, Sher--"

"Delkonian." He took the paper from Mary but looked over at Marshall. "Where did you get this?"

"Stan's drawers." Marshall still didn't look up.

"Huh." Bobby looked at the paper more closely than before. "'Mass terraforming project approved by the Chalfec governing body on Telron 14' - that was a week ago - 'to commence as soon as the necessary equipment is in place. Expected time of completion, three farja' - just under twelve hours. 'Expected date of completion....'" Bobby looked up and met Mary's gaze. "Tomorrow."

She nodded slowly, disbelief clear on her face. "Delkonian. Chalfec. Telron 14. Farja. Explain."

Bobby sighed. "Look, I wasn't supposed to say anything at all, ever, but I reckon today is an exception in so many ways."

"You're serious," Marshall said quietly, still staring at the papers in front of him.

"Unfortunately." Bobby leaned over him and looked at a page that had translations written in pencil on it. "Yeah, this, the one you have as Stan's people? Delkons. The Chalfec are these." He pointed to the symbol designated as 'the other ones'. "Kylie, yeah, danger. How'd you know all these?"

"Charlie," Mary whispered, sitting down heavily. "Fuck. How screwed are we, exactly?"

Bobby shrugged. "Let me look at the rest of these. How he got away with putting this on paper, I don't know...." He gathered the pages that were spread around and took a chair at the far end of the table to start reading.

Marshall folded his arms on the table and dropped his head onto them. "Very screwed," he muttered to the tabletop.

"You don't know that," Mary said quietly, scooting her chair closer. "Hey, come on, you're supposed to be the upbeat one."

"Not always."

She laid a hand on his shoulder. "Well, you can't leave optimism to me."

He shrugged.

"Marshall, will you at least look at me? I don't think you've looked up from that table in three hours."

He shook his head.

"For fuck's sake, I already know you were crying earlier. I don't care, okay? It sucks. Crying is a justified reaction, so long as you're trying to do something about it at the same time - and you have been. So man up and look at me, you dimwit." She moved her hand from his shoulder up to scratch at the back of his head. "You're the one with emotions here. Let me experience humanity vicariously."

A laugh startled out of him, and he turned his head to the side, still resting on his arms. "I'm glad you're here."

"Someone's got to keep your head out of the clouds, what with that promotion." Mary grinned at him and leaned in to kiss his forehead.

"I've got that answer," Bobby said from his corner suddenly. "We are extremely screwed."


	6. Chapter 6

"When you say extremely screwed...."

Bobby leaned back in his chair and breathed out, hard. "I mean we're so screwed that Charlie's the lucky one today."

Mary huffed. "We're still alive. Whatever's happening, there's got to be something we can do. Right?"

"Wrong."

"So what is happening?"

Bobby frowned at the Marshals. "End of the world seems like a good summary, doesn't it?"

"Terraforming," Marshall interjected. "You said a mass terraforming project - on Earth?"

"Right in one."

"Stan's--"

"No." Bobby sat forward abruptly. "Not the Delkonians. Never the Delkonians."

Mary raised an eyebrow. "Oookay. Not the Delkonians. The Telrons."

"Telron is a month. Sort of. That doesn't matter. The ones who are going to terraform Earth aren't the ones who were here."

"They wouldn't need to terraform. They could survive."

"They're human, Marshall. Or close enough."

"They're able to take on a human-looking form, yes," Bobby said. "Look, most of this doesn't matter. We've been rated an inferior species with no real chance for appeal. Our protectors have closed shop. The planet's atmosphere is going to be converted tomorrow, from the equator out towards the poles, over the course of twelve hours, and life as we know it will literally stop in its tracks. I've got exactly one plan for us."

"Which is?"

He stood slowly and pushed the papers off the table. "Get utterly shitfaced so we don't feel it when we die."

The room was silent for a long moment, then Mary laughed. "I don't know about you, Marshall, but I think that's a terrible plan. For one, it's the same plan everyone else's had. Good luck finding any alcohol in this town that hasn't already been stolen."

"Not to mention that if we managed to steal some booze, we'd then have to stay sober enough to guard it, because someone would only try to steal it from us in turn," Marshall replied.

"And if you're sober enough to guard the beer--"

"You're sober enough to feel your death. And if you aren't sober enough to guard the beer--"

"It gets stolen before you're drunk enough to miss the whole dying thing. Not really seeing a way out of this, and I'm a trained investigator."

"Well, technically, you're a trained Inspector."

"And I have thoroughly inspected that plan and found it wanting. Unless," she turned back to Bobby, "you're volunteering to stay sober and guard the booze while we get wasted."

Marshall held up a finger. "No, I've got a better plan. Sex. Lots and lots of sex."

She cocked her head to one side. "Fuck ourselves into a coma?"

"Well, I was thinking preload ourselves with endorphins, but the coma plan works too."

"We're not combining the plans," she warned. "I have too much first-hand experience with your--"

"We're not using either of those damn plans!" Bobby said suddenly. "Jesus, forget I said anything, okay?"

Mary smiled sweetly at him. "We were only trying to help."

"You want to help, you'll bring me some dinner."

"It's hardly dinner at two in the morning."

"That late?" Marshall yawned hugely. "Wow. That late. So let's get a snack, get some sleep, and then figure out how we want to die once we're well-rested."

"Also a stupid plan," Bobby muttered under his breath as Marshall started pulling blankets out of a cabinet.

* * *

  
She wasn't sure what woke her up, but lying there staring at a dark room wasn't calming her nerves any. She pulled gently out of Marshall's arms, quieting him with a soft stroke down his back, and slid out the door into the main office. A single lamp was on, and Bobby was hunched over Marshall's desk, face down on a legal pad, snoring softly.

Mary snuck closer, trying not to wake him up. A word on the legal pad caught her eye, and she leaned over to read what little he wasn't laying on top of. _Dear Stan, typical letter opening, how've you been, blah blah family news. In light of recent actions on the home front, I've decided to return to the ship early and monitor any developments in the situation from there. Please keep an eye out for my Bobby, as I'm sure the next years will be..._

She sighed silently and reached for the legal pad, to try and work it out from under him, but a hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. "What you doing here?" he whispered sharply without moving.

"Couldn't sleep," she returned, twisting her arm in his grip. "Wanted to see how far you'd gotten. Dammit, Bobby, let me go."

He sat up, released her wrist, and flipped the legal pad over quickly. "That's not relevant."

"The hell it isn't. You were translating something."

"I was translating something that isn't relevant. Drop it, Shannon."

"Dershowitz--"

The door to the office where Marshall had been sleeping opened. "Som'thin goin' on?" he slurred, blinking at them.

"Nothing. Go back to bed," they replied at the same time, then traded looks.

"Looks like something." Marshall shook his head, yawned, and came over to them. "Mary--"

"He translated something and won't tell me what it is."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Yeah, go tattle to Daddy. It's not relevant, Marshall."

"It's more than not relevant if you're fighting her over it." He shrugged.

"Fine. It's personal. Call off your dog." The look he shot at Mary only caused her to stick out her tongue at both of them.

"Mer, back off. He'll tell us anything we'll need to know." Marshall reached for her hand without looking away from Bobby.

The detective shifted in his chair, then growled low. "Fine. It's ... the commander of the Delkonians stationed on Earth, she got wind that something big was going to happen and left. She's probably the one who recalled the rest of them." He tossed the original letter at Marshall.

"It's not dated. Does the letter say when this was?"

"No." Bobby looked away, stared out the window. "But it was twelve years ago next month. You wanted to know how I know the language?" He stood up and moved to the window, shoulders tight. A humorless laugh huffed out of him. "The Delkonian commander? That's my mother. Disappeared in the middle of the night without a trace. Whole reason I'm a cop, so that wouldn't happen to anyone else." Another laugh escaped. "Fat lot of good I'm doing right now."


	7. Chapter 7

"Hey--"

"It's empty, Dershowitz. You want more or not?"

He blinked up at Mary, then looked into his mug. "Oh. Right." He handed it over to her and watched as she filled it with hot coffee. "Any more donuts left?"

"I can't believe our last meal is going to be cheap coffee and stale donuts," she groused, handing him the box. "Got anything?"

"Nothing useful, no. Just putting together the pieces and figuring out my childhood." He sighed heavily and took a large bite of his donut.

"I hope that wasn't the last one," Allison said, coming into the conference room. "Marshall, you've got a phone call."

"Sowwy," Bobby said through a mouthful of breakfast, offering her the rest of the donut.

Mary rolled her eyes and slid the box across the table towards Allison. "There's more. You're looking better today."

"Yes, well, if we're going to die, we may as be well-rested. Isn't that what you told me last night?"

"Close enough." Mary watched her boss sit down and look at the translations they had so far. "Come up with a brilliant plan yet?"

"God, no. This isn't my area of expertise."

"It's nobody's area of expertise," Bobby said, snagging the top page from Allison's stack. "Sorry, mind if I?"

"Go ahead. Seems to be _your_ area of expertise."

"Don't even think about putting me in charge. I'm just the guy who had a secret language with his mom, growing up. Mary's doing a fine job bossing us around."

Marshall cleared his throat from the doorway. "I just want to be sure the record shows that I outrank Mary."

"You're so childish." She stuck her tongue out. "Nobody ranks anywhere near me. I'm just that awesome."

"Marshall, this part is referring to the plans after the terraforming; we can skip over that for now."

"I was hoping to find some sort of logical flaw in their plan."

Mary laughed. "And inform them of it how? Megaphone?"

He shrugged. "Junk thinks--" He glanced at Allison.

"I'm not going to go crazy this close to the end of the world," she complained. "Just spit it out, Marshall."

"You know, I can never tell if you're using my name or title." He shook his head. "Junk - friend of mine who, um, is pretty good with computers--"

"He's a hacker, Marshall; nobody's going to arrest him today."

"Well, he thinks he can hack into the spaceship and at least communicate with them."

Bobby laughed. "Well, that'll get us exactly nowhere. Chalfecs aren't known for their stellar conversational skills."

"Yeah? How do you know? You didn't know until this morning that your mother was an alien."

Marshall shot a glare at her.

"No, it's okay. I grew up with bedtime stories about the Chalfecs and the Delkonians and some other people that apparently don't matter anymore. I figured they were just really good scifi my mom made up until now."

"What do you mean, it'll get us nowhere?" Allison asked, cutting off Mary before she could say anything else.

"I mean they're not going to understand any Earth language."

"You can speak Delkonian."

"Like an infant!"

"Still. That's better than nothing, isn't it? Get their attention at least?"

He sighed. "I don't know. Maybe. But I doubt we'll be able to sway them. See, this isn't about killing us or anything. We're just ... we're mice to them. Bugs, even. We don't even register.

"If what I remember from the stories is true, then they're looking for a place to live. They expanded throughout their solar system a long time ago, but now their sun is dying. My guess is that they're going to terraform our whole solar system - or at least most of it; it wouldn't be worth their time to just do one planet - and then move in while their sun's still going, rather than be stranded on their ships for generations the way the Delkonians were.

"So they've scanned us--" He broke off and shuffled through the stack of notes in front of Allison again. "Yeah. They've been scanning us for a while, measuring the potential of all Earth's life. I mean, not the potential, exactly. It's something like how advanced we are now, how quickly we're moving, all that kind of thing. It adds up to some sort of rating system. The Delkonians had already scanned our planet for themselves and moved on, but they came back to try to convince the Chalfecs that we were worth leaving alone. The practice of living on Earth started as a ... kind of like when people chain themselves to trees they don't want cut down. Only it grew into an officially-sanctioned military action. Which has clearly failed, since the terraforming is scheduled to start probably within the next couple of hours."

The conference room was quiet as everyone took in his tale. Marshall frowned, gaze unfocused, his lips forming soundless words. Allison's eyes were closed, and her fingers tapped rhythmically on the table. Mary held Bobby's gaze.

"Why were we rated inferior?"

"I don't know, Mary. For some reason, I don't have a direct line into all the details of the evil alien invasion. Maybe it's got something to do with how we're still planetbound, or the way we kill each other without a second thought. Or maybe it's to do with the way we waste all our natural resources. I don't know what's important and what was just my mom's opinions, and it really doesn't matter anymore. Too late to change anything now."


	8. Chapter 8

"I got it! I'm in, it's sent, we've sent the message." Junk's voice was jubilant through the phone, and the people in the conference room of the Sunshine building breathed a loud sigh of relief.

"Oh, god." Allison grinned at them. "We did it."

"It might not help at all," Bobby warned.

"Well, you should try to get over here if you still can. If they do respond, I'm the one who'll pick it up."

* * *

  
"Online chess?" Mary asked as they entered Junk's basement. "That's how you choose to go out?"

"Hey, I'm good at it. We know what's going on now, and I've got all that depressing stuff over there. I'd rather die happy, thanks." He pointedly turned his back on her, addressing the others with distaste clear in his voice. "You people probably all want to look at the depressing part, don't you."

"Terminally curious," Marshall agreed cheerfully.

"Help yourself." Junk waved a hand vaguely behind himself. "You know what you're doing, and it's all pretty self-explanatory. If not, your alien boy can give you the guided tour, I'm sure."

Bobby grunted. "I was adopted by an alien, but I'm still completely human."

"Close enough."

"I could still cuff you, you know."

Junk raised one eyebrow. "Really? That's what you're going to do to humanity's greatest hope in our darkest hour? This is why the government really needs to be overthrown. And I have probably an hour to do it in before DC's terraformed. And then a little more time before it gets to us, but I'm not sure that would count."

Bobby snorted. "Why are all hackers so weird?"

"Is this what I think it is?" Marshall was frowning at the screen on the far side of the room.

"If you think it's a massive wall of death, then yes, it is exactly what you think it is." Junk threw himself dramatically into his chair and went back to his chess game. "Near as I can tell, the wall itself kills anything living, and then the atmosphere is changed behind it."

"Of course," Bobby groaned. "It's the only way around the interplanetary laws regulating terraforming. You can't change the atmosphere such that it's toxic to any creature already living there."

Mary laughed. "See, now, that sounds totally humane, until you remember the part where it's apparently legal to kill everything and _then_ change the atmosphere."

"Yes, well, one presumes that's why the Delkonians are so against the whole process."

"And here I thought Earth was just special."

Marshall cleared his throat loudly. "Giant wall of death, happening right now?"

"Sorry," Bobby said quickly. "What were you saying?"

"He was just being Marshall Miserable. Leave him be and let's do something about Junk's tequila stash."

"Mary--"

"Really, Marshall? What are we going to do about the giant wall of death? Run away from it?"

"People are trying that," Junk interrupted. "It doesn't work for long. Thing moves pretty fast, and even if it didn't, you run out of planet eventually."

"What about getting off the ground?"

"Terraforming requires the air, too. Wall goes all the way up. Caught more than a few planes going down with nothing but corpses in them. The only way out is off this planet, and even if anybody could get together a shuttle launch in enough time, we have nowhere to go. It's hopeless; now can we stop talking about it and let me play my game? My opponent's farther north than we are, and I'd like to beat her before she dies."

"Real classy." Mary leaned over his shoulder. "Oh, that shouldn't take you long, anyway. Look--"

"I know how to play chess, thank you very much." He slapped away the hand that had started to point at his screen. "Find your own game."

Bobby's voice broke through uncertainly. "Guys, what's this?"

"Message alert. Probably your alien friends." Junk's head snapped around. "Message from your alien friends!"

"I hope to whatever deity is still alive you mean actual friends and not the terraforming bastards." Bobby poked at the keyboard once before being pushed aside by the hacker.

"No, I don't know, but it's not from Earth. Here, let me--"

"Just decompress, I'll translate--"

"No shit, Sherlock, I don't have a program--"

"Shut up for a second, that's--"

"Another message, I see--"

"Shorter ... Delkonians want a video communication with us."

"Tell them to get in line; if I'm reading this first one right, so do--"

"No, no, that's not the same, they want video with ... evidence of species? How the hell do we prove that?"

Junk and Bobby stared blankly at each other for a long moment before Allison broke in. "How about we talk to the good aliens first and see if they have any brilliant ideas?"

"Right. Yes. How--" The screen they had all crowded around flipped suddenly to a view of what seemed to be a human woman.

"Hello, Robert."

Bobby stared. "Mom?"

"Sorry to just pop in like this, but it seemed easier than waiting you for make a connection. I have bad news."

"They're not going to stop no matter what we say?"

"They can't stop the process, no matter what you say. But--"

"Goddammit." Junk growled and stalked away from the screen.

Mary shrugged. "So we call it a day and go stand in the street, waiting to die?"

"I formally encourage you, as a representatives of Earth, to speak with the Chalfec delegation anyway. There is a way to perpetuate the species, but only if they are presented with sufficient evidence to make their terraforming unlawful." Her eyes flicked to Marshall. "Off the record, I'd suggest that you and my son do this together."

"Is Stan there?" he asked quietly.

She turned over one shoulder and spoke quietly to someone off the screen. A moment later, a hazy outline came into their view. "You might want to adjust your visuals," she said to it, and it solidified into Stan McQueen.

"I'll have you know the only reason I'm not there with you is direct orders and the fact that it would kill your chance to make this parlay work," he said, grinning at them. "Look at that, Commander: those are my people, saving their planet."

"How they've grown up in your absence," she replied dryly, but her face still showed her pride as she met her son's eyes. "Do you understand what you have to do?"

"Not at all," Bobby muttered.

"We'll muddle our way through," Marshall promised. "I imagine you can't tell us much of anything."

The commander shook her head. "Show them that you understand our language, at least at the basic level - which is about all their leader can do, anyway, and you should speak directly to him - and prove that you're human and not one of us who stayed behind. How you do it has to be your own plan."


	9. Chapter 9

Mary followed Allison upstairs and out onto Junk's second-floor balcony. "Times like this, I wish I smoked," she said quietly, leaning backwards against the railing.

"Times like this, I wish I'd tried all the stupid risky stuff I wanted to. Then maybe I wouldn't be here to die like this." Allison shrugged. "Of course, then I'd have died twelve ridiculous ways, and I'd have missed out on some pretty good times, so I suppose on balance, it was worth it."

"Huh. I just meant, have you ever watched a habitual smoker take that first drag? That look of bliss? I could use a little bliss right now."

"Mmm." Allison turned away and looked out over the city. There were four different fires going, that they could see, and the street directly below them was decorated with the corpse of a teenage boy. "I don't think even that would overcome the situation, really."

"Maybe not." They were silent for several minutes before Mary sighed loudly.

"They'll let us know when they're done."

"Well, I wish they would hurry up and be done." She checked her watch. "We have about twelve minutes left, where we are. The wall of death will be in sight any minute now."

"I can't believe you're keeping track of that," Allison muttered.

"I can't believe you're not," Mary retorted. "I'd like to be aware of exactly how much time I have left." Her phone buzzed once, and she glanced at the text.

 _Tell A to come back down. Ms on his way up._

"Have they done it?"

Mary shrugged. "Bobby wants you back down there. I guess you'll find out." She slid the phone back into her pocket and turned out towards the city as her companion left. "Goddamn." Below her, a kid jumped his skateboard off somebody's front porch, meeting her eyes momentarily as he landed.

"Hey," Marshall said quietly from behind her.

"Hey."

He came up beside her and leaned on the rail. "Bobby's mom is finishing up the conversions on one of their ships to be able to take some humans off to a new planet."

"So you did it?"

"Yeah, we did it." He sighed heavily. "They won't take us. They can't take us. We're out of time."

Mary looked up into the horizon and frowned at the yellow tint the sky had taken on. "We could try to run."

"We wouldn't make it."

"Other people are running."

He slid his hand overtop hers and squeezed gently. "Mary Shannon doesn't run."

She watched as the yellow tint started to cover mountains in the distance. "Marshall Mann knows how to strategically retreat when a fight is unwinable. Maybe you could teach me."

He let out a quiet laugh. "Wild horses couldn't tear me from your side at the end."

"Thanks for the cliché."

"I thought you'd like it better than the science fiction quote, but if you'd prefer ... 'Undomesticated equines could not remove me.'"

"Wasn't the alien the one who said that?" she asked, flipping her hand over to lace her fingers through his.

He shrugged. "Minor details. The sentiment still applies."

They stood quietly as the noises of the city were overtaken by the advancing yellow wall.

"So where are the lucky repopulating people coming from?"

"Probably Australia, South America, I don't know. It depends on how quickly they can get the ship together."

"This is not the last conversation I had envisioned."

He laughed again. "Yeah, me neither."

The yellow was now close enough that they could see individual houses being swallowed up, alarmingly fast.

"Make do with what you have, I suppose."

"Seems to be the only thing left to do."

The yellow wall breached the house across the street, and Mary squeezed the hand she was holding as it took over the street and the kid on his skateboard. "I love you."


End file.
